


Times Change

by GoldenClover



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5230412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenClover/pseuds/GoldenClover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eugene goes to see Snafu after the war, but it's a far cry from what he expected</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Autres Temps, Autres Mouers

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are based off of the TV show, not the real people. These are the real names of Shelton's family member, but they are in no way the real people.

  Eugene Sledge moved off of the train and into the crowd of bustling people, all chattering away in either French, English, or something in between. The first thing he’d noticed was how many people here had Snafu’s same slow drawl, but none quite had that way about them; Snafu had always had that certain aura of arrogance and sarcasm that had first drawn Eugene to him. As he picked his way through the throngs of people, he thought about the address the VA office had given him. St. Francisville, Louisiana. He wondered if Snafu had connections there, a family, friends, people who cared about him. During the war, it had never occurred to him that Snafu had had a life before the Marines, it had always seemed like he had been on those blasted islands his whole life, just waiting for Sledge to show up.

* * *

 

  Sledge sat in the cab, a feeling of both trepidation and excitement brewing inside. How would Snafu react to his sudden appearance? Perhaps he should have sent a letter first, announcing his visit. What if Snafu had settled into civilian life, and didn’t want to see him? As Eugene stared stoically out the window, these fears and anxieties brewed in his mind. They grew nearer and nearer to Snafu’s home and Sledge noticed a slight change of scenery. The view outside the cab’s window was now made up primarily of wild swamp land, probably full of alligators and other wildlife. In other circumstances, he would have loved to look at the local birds, but he was here on a mission. To see Snafu.

 The car came to a halt outside of a small, white house with a wraparound porch and and bent maple tree in the front yard. It had wide windows with obviously home-made curtains and looked well loved, though in need of a bit of repair. Overall, Sledge thought, it looked surprisingly inviting. He thanked the taxi driver politely, paid him his fee, and stepped out into the bayou. Struck by the humidity after the comfort of the cab, he wiped the sweat off of his forehead with a handkerchief he kept on his person and trod up the creaky steps of the house and knocked on the old wooden door. Eugene heard footsteps approaching, and that nervous fluttery feeling in his chest he got when he was scared reared it’s head; he still didn’t know how Snafu would receive him.

 To his shock, a young, dark-haired woman with a kind face opened the door. “May I help you?” She asked in a distinct southern accent, smoothing her slightly dusty yellow skirt. “I…. um….” Eugene opened his mouth, but struggled to find words. “Uh… my name is Eugene Sledge, and I knew Merriell Shelton in the war. I had hoped to find him here.” He gazed at her expectantly. Immediately, her eyes dropped; the war must be a delicate subject. “O’course. I’m his wife, Gladys” she beckoned him into the house “Come on in.”

 Sledge entered, and the words rung in his head _I’m his wife, Gladys_. Snafu had gotten married? The idea was…. simply absurd. He couldn’t imagine Snafu marrying at all, and yet here was the evidence, right in front of him, walking with neat, precise footsteps.

* * *

 

 Eugene followed Gladys through the house, and drunk in the sights along the way. It was cozy, with warm lights and soft furniture, nothing like his home in Alabama; it was much more lived in than his own house. She led him to the backyard, where he heard the sound of voices and, he noticed, the unmistakable, drawn-out tones of Merriell ‘Snafu’ Shelton.

 He couldn’t help but feel a wonderful sense of familiarity at hearing that voice. Snafu was outside with two small boys, who, Sledge noticed right away, looked an awful lot like Shelton. The bigger one had Gladys’ dark eyes, but Snafu’s erratic curls, and the littler one had Gladys’ smooth hair, but Snafu’s enormous, multi-coloured eyes. Snafu had the smooth-haired one on his shoulders, and the older one next him. Snafu raised his head at the sound of footsteps, and his eyes immediately zeroed in on Eugene.

 “Sledgehamma’…..?” He said carefully, as though he wasn’t quite sure Sledge was real, or just his imagination “I thought you was back in Mobile.” (Snafu stretched the vowels in Mobile to the point where it was almost comical) He looked for all the world like a deer in headlights, and Sledge half expected him to dart away. But he didn’t. His wife (god, that still sounded so strange to Eugene) seemed to sense the terseness of the situation, and called for the boys to “Stop bugging your papa, and come help me with dinner.” “Venir, maman!” They chirped, and ran in after her.

 The minute they were alone, Sledge smiled uneasily “Hey, Snaf” For a moment, they stood there awkwardly, then he suddenly remembered the Southern propriety that his mother had so resolutely trained him in, and broke the silence “My sincerest apologies on barging in on your home, I do hope you’ll forgive me. And how have you been?” Snafu stared at him like he’d grown another head and barked a laugh, as if suddenly regaining his senses. “Sledgehamma, you ain’t gotta be so formal, we been through hell and back togetha’” Then he fixed him with a piercing stare, “And what you doin’ here, anyway?”

 “I……” What was he doing here anyways? Eugene had no reason to go digging up old bones “I’m not really sure.” He expected Snafu to smirk or mock him, or do something. But he just stood there, eyeing him restlessly. It was clear to Eugene that Shelton had no clue what to make of him just showing up. They stood there for a good couple of minutes, awkwardly staring at their shoes, when Sledge decided to break the silence with a question that’d been gnawing away at him for months now. “Why did you just leave me on the train? No goodbye, no address, nothing.” It’s a long time before Snafu responds, but when he does, his voice is uncharacteristically quiet. “I didn’t wanna wake you up, you were sleepin’.” And he knows that’s not it, that isn’t the reason, but it’s the most he’s going to get out of Shelton for now.

 “So, what you been doing fo’ the past five years?” Snafu asked “You got yourself some pretty little southern belle and a nice, fancy college degree?” Snaf’s grinning, his old self again. Sledge thought about how he’s spent the last few years really just wallowing in self pity; not that he’s lazy, he just can’t seem to get over the war. No one else in Mobile has had his same difficulties, really, and no one really seems to understand just what he went through over there.

 But maybe now, with Snafu, he’ll be able to talk to someone about it. Unlikely; Shelton’s never been one to talk about his feelings. “I haven’t really done much, I’ve been doing some birdwatching and a bit of writing here and there, but that’s about it.” He shrugged uncomfortably, aware of how privileged he must seem to someone like Snafu, who doesn’t have the option to sit around all day, sketching birds and drinking iced tea.

* * *

 

  Sledge sat perched on the edge of the small, slightly worn, but clean bed. After he and Shelton’s somewhat uncomfortable reunion, he had been asked to stay at their house for the remainder of his visit (he didn't actually have a particular time he had to get back). Snaf’s wife (that word still sounded so strange to him) was, for lack of a better term, the blue to his red. She was calm, collected, and quiet; however, she had a quiet stubbornness and fiery way about her that couldn’t be denied. She was shorter than Snafu, had big, dark eyes and thick, straight, ink-coloured hair; she was slightly paler than her husband and usually seemed to wear aprons and colourful, but somewhat tired, dresses. While not beautiful, there was definitely something very intriguing about her features.

 Sledge had yet to see what the children were like, they hadn’t spoken to him, but rather stared at him intensely, much like their father. Eugene felt a dull tinge of sadness at the fact that he and Shelton hadn’t picked up right where they left off. It occurred to him that they would probably never be quite so close as they were five years ago; there’s nothing like a war to bring people together. Things were different now, Shelton had a wife, kids, and a job at a nearby lumber mill, and Eugene was considering university and was being pressured by his parents to work at the bank. They would likely always be friends, but it would never be the same again. They had new responsibilities, new worries, new expectations, and they couldn’t be two twenty-something kids, just trying to get through a war ever again.

 


	2. La Bonheur de la Famille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene meets Snafu's parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, they are in no way the real people, but are merely characters. Also, I'm not really sure where the story is going or what exactly the general plot is yet, so this chapter isn't really a big part of the story.

  Sledge sat on the rickety deck of Shelton’s home and let his bare feet dangle over the edge; he ran a hand through his flame-coloured hair, his face a picture of utter contentment. In the week or so that he’d spent in Louisiana, he’d come to find a sort of peace in the marshy swamplands, far away from the pressure of his family. He loved his parents, of course, but they didn’t seem to understand why he couldn’t just forget the war, get married, and settle down; and Edward, too, didn’t truly get it. Here, however, he didn’t have to talk to his mother’s friends or brave his father’s sympathetic glances. Here, he was free.

 As Eugene sat, lost in thought, he heard the soft pitter-patter of footsteps steadily approaching. He looked up at Shelton’s two sons (Sledge still wondered how the hell Snafu of all people was a father) as they plopped down next to him on the porch. Soon after arriving, Snafu had told him, with a hint of pride, that the older one’s name was Floyd, and the younger one’s was Allen. Sledge still knew nothing about them, save for the fact that they seemed to follow each other everywhere. Allen, in particular, clung to his older brother like a leech; he was only three, while Floyd was about five. However, despite all this, Eugene had barely said a word to either of them during his short stay in Louisiana.

 Allen fixed his enormous, Snafu-like eyes on him “Maman said we should show you around.” Floyd nudged his brother and Allen quickly continued talking “An’ she said we should take you to see grandmère and grandpère.” Sledge nodded, pleased at the opportunity to see the small town fully, and stood up. As he followed the two boys, he mulled over the way that both they and their parents seemed to slip into French at random, such as how they had used the French version of grandma and grandpa. Maybe, he pondered, he could ask one of them to teach him. It would be a fantastic opportunity to learn another language.

 

* * *

 

 The three of them traipsed through the swamplands together until they came to a small town. Sledge noted a few shops, some houses, a grocery, a diner, a schoolhouse, and a church. There were people milling around, who, Eugene noticed, were eyeing him rather suspiciously. He guessed that it wasn’t often wealthy doctor’s sons with collared shirts came to visit. He followed Floyd and Allen, who enthusiastically pointed out landmarks and called out to friends and neighbors. He was introduced to countless cousins and aunts and family friends throughout the course of the tour, all who seemed almost wary of his presence.

 Finally, they led him to slightly ramshackle wooden house. It was painted a faded mint-green and had an ornate, cement porch; an iron wrought fence lead up the steps to the house, with it’s blue-shuttered, floor to ceiling windows. Sitting on an old rocking chair in the front was a plump, dark-haired woman, who was not dissimilar in age from his own mother.

 Her grey streaked curls were pulled back into a loose bun and she was wearing a clean, navy dress. She looked up when they arrived, and her mouth split into a wide grin. “Floyd, Allen!” She called, her words erupting into a train of French. After embracing the boys, she turned to Eugene “Ah, an’ you must be the ‘visitor’ these boys have been telling me about.” He nodded “Yes, ma'am.” She smiled and introduced herself, “I’m Adelaide, these boys grandmère. I hear you came down here t’ see my Merriell?”

 

* * *

 

 He followed Mrs. Shelton inside, and was greeted by a small, sunny room. The floors were an old, dark wood and the walls were painted all white. A dark green chair, which looked like an antique, was positioned by a short lamp with beads dangling from it, and a small, wobbly table was by the door. Light blazed in from the tall windows and through the door. Unfortunately, it was no cooler in there than in the swelteringly hot outdoors, but it did feel slightly less muggy.

 Mrs. Shelton led him and her grandsons to a colourful and cluttered kitchen, where an elderly man sat at a polished, wooden table, listlessly flipping through a book and sipping what looked like homemade lemonade. Eugene could empathise with the man’s lethargic actions, the awful heat made him want to just lay down and never get up. “Bernard, honey, we got visitors.” The man glanced up, a smile crinkling at the corners of his pale eyes, and his gaze landed flat on Sledge. He stood up and leaned forward to shake his hand, “You’re the out-of-towner. I’m Bernard, Merl’s papa.”

 Sledge, somewhat taken aback by the man’s abruptness, shook his tanned, wrinkled hand. Floyd and Allen were already seated, taking big slurps of lemonade and speaking to each other in muted whispers while glancing around the room with wide eyes. Mrs. Shelton bustled to sit Eugene in a chair and give him something to drink, which Eugene gladly accepted, the heavy blanket of humidity had made him awfully thirsty.

 “So, honey, what you doin’ all the way down in St. Francisville? It ain’t exactly a big tourist destination.” Mrs. Shelton asked after he had settled down comfortably. “Well… I suppose I came to see Merriell, we knew each other in the war.” She nodded “I see. He’s been real different since then, but I ain’t gonna talk to you about that in front of Floyd and Allen.”

 

* * *

 

 A couple hours later, after a pleasant afternoon of lemonade and chatter, Eugene and the boys took their leave of Mr. and Mrs. Shelton, and stepped out into the somewhat deteriorating heat. Floyd happily bounced up beside him “That’s papa’s parents!” He explained enthusiastically, something Sledge had already known. “Grandpère used t’ be a fisherman, and he’s got a little boat that we sometimes use.” Eugene nodded, tuning out Floyd’s words as the boy went on and on about all types of randomness, as only small children can do.

He used the time to think over the events of the day. Snaf’s parents had actually turned out to be quite pleasant people, so he wondered why the hell Snafu was so damn crazy. It couldn’t have just been the war, Sledge thought offhandedly, he would have had to been a little strange to begin with.

They walked up the dirt path that led to Snaf’s house and stepped inside. Floyd and Allen immediately left to go help their mother with dinner, and Sledge found himself at a loss for what to do. After a moment of awkwardly standing in the hallway, he headed into the courtyard out back. There, he found Snafu leaning against the side of the house and smoking a cigarette. “Hey Snaf.” He said casually, joining him.

 Shelton grunted in response, and the two of them stood there in companionable silence, each thinking of something different. Eugene was thinking about how his mother must have been getting anxious for his return, and Snafu’s mind was on Okinawa. He was trying to get the image of Hamm’s being shot out of his head, but he just couldn’t forget it. They stood there like this, lost in thought, for the next ten minutes, before Snafu broke the silence.

 He stretched and rubbed his cigarette butt out on the wall “We should be gettin’ in, dinner’s likely ready by now.” Eugene nodded and moved to follow him, then stopped. “Wait, Snaf,” He gulped, and Snafu looked at him quizzically, “You never really did answer my question the other day. Why…. why did you leave me on the train?” Sledge gazed at him expectantly, but Snafu merely scowled. “I told ya, you were sleepin’ an’ I didn’t want to wake you.”

**  
** He started again to go inside, but Sledge pressed him for more. “No, that isn’t why and you know it. If it was really just that, you would’ve woken me up.” Like hell that’s the reason, he thought. A pained expression crossed Snafu’s face “I just ain’t good at goodbyes.” Before Sledge could ask more, Snaf had disappeared through the doorway. Heaving a sigh, Eugene went in as well, he’d question his friend some more another time.


	3. Dark Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but I noticed Snafu had a letter in one of the scenes of the Pacific, so it's a sort of flashback to him reading the letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some random names thrown into the letter, they're not actual people, just random people that Snafu knows at home for the sake of the story. Again, I don't own the real marines or the characters and mean no disrespect towards them or their families. Also, I apologize for any similarities to other fanfictions.

 October 3rd, 1944

 

 Merriell Shelton leaned back, dirtying his already grime-covered uniform even more. He didn’t care, it was already more blood and muck than cloth. Under thick black brows, his pale eyes darted nervously from side to side out of habit, checking for any danger. Contented when no one jumped out at him with a gun and screaming and Japanese, he leaned back and pulled out a cream-coloured envelope from home, escaping into the words as though they could pull him back home.

 

_ Dear Merri, _

_How are you? Are you alright? I miss you and wish you would come home; everyone does. I listen to the radio every day, it sounds like it’s real bad out there on_ _Pelilui_ _Peliliu_ _Peleliu. Be careful, there are already so many men from our town killed over there. It’s different now with all the young men gone off to war, like there’s something missing, kinda like those ‘what’s wrong with this picture’ things. I’m counting down the days until you’re back, and I haven’t lost track once.. Remember you proposed to me before you left? I wish I was back there again, with you, before this whole war business started. When you get back, maybe we’ll have a small, private wedding, but I expect the whole town will end up attending. That’s how it always is. Please be careful and don’t get yourself killed or nothing, I couldn’t bear it if I lost you. So many boys from our town have been lost already, and I don’t want you to be one of them. Some man in a uniform came to see mama just the other day, and I know you know my brother Victor. Those Krauts killed him down at the German front. The funeral’s in a week, but they couldn’t find his body; mama’s in denial, she insists that if there’s no body, there’s no death. I know he’s gone for good, and after losing my brother, I don’t want you to leave me too._

 

_  I expect you’ll want me to fill you in on everything that’s happened while you were gone. You remember little Alcide? She married some boy from Baton Rouge just last month and they’ve already got a baby on the way! As I write this, I’m working on a pair of yellow booties for their baby this very instant. Chances are, though, she’ll have to go back to Baton Rouge with him. This will be the first year she, along with you and so many of the other boys gone off to war, won’t be around for Mardi Gras. I didn’t write you about it when it happened, but last year’s Mardi Gras was something else. It’s gotta have been the biggest one we’ve had yet, you would have loved it. It was all bright colours and loud noises, lots of fun, there was a big pot of gumbo and, to be honest, a lot of the men there had probably a bit too much too drink. I know I’m rambling now, but I don’t want to write about everything going on over there, I try to keep these letters cheerful. _

 

_  Your mama and papa are well, as is the whole family, and the new has been good these last few weeks or so. We all miss you and eagerly await your homecoming. I wish I could write more, and I know this letter is short, but I have to go help mama with dinner.  _

_ Love, _

_ Gladys _

  
 He smiled, a real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, not a smirk or a leer, but a real smile. He set down the envelope and lost himself in a world of daydreams, pretending he was sitting at home in the kitchen with his mama and papa and friends and family, and there weren’t any bombs exploding in the distance, no loud  _ cracks _ of a gun, no desperate calls of “Corpsman!”, just him and his family in the soft Louisiana heat, just like before the war. Then he noticed Sledge staring pensively into the distance and snapped out of his reverie, brought back to the world of horror and screams of the present day. Once again, home was a million miles away.


End file.
